


The People We Know

by YuriAllDahWay



Series: Baewatch [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Light Romance, Memories, Nostalgia, Reminiscing, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 19:40:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7727329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YuriAllDahWay/pseuds/YuriAllDahWay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Pharah can't sleep and recounts about the people who made an impact in her life...especially a certain foreigner. Third installment of Baewatch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The People We Know

**Author's Note:**

> Third installment of Baewatch, as it says. Hopefully all you enjoy. This is the longest oneshot I've written, actually...is that a little sad?
> 
> Also, forgive me if Symmetra seems a little OOC--I had a little trouble writing her.

Fareeha thought she was going to die from heatstroke.

The metallic confines of her Raptora suit was beginning to get to her. From inside the proud blue armor, her white tank-top and boy shorts were absolutely _drenched_ in sweat. Every movement she made was completely uncomfortable, every shot she made was completely out of focus, and _if this training session wasn’t over soon she was going to—_

“That’s enough!” A voice crackled in her headset, “We’ll continue this tomorrow.” The line cut off and Fareeha allowed herself to sigh.

As she descended from the sky, her rockets rumbling behind her, she took off her mask. She awarded herself for surviving the heat and a good training session with the best reward possible: humungous breaths of air.

“Pharah!”

Her feet touched the ground with quiet delicacy. She turned her head and looked over her shoulder to see who the crier was.

“Captain Khalil,” she said, watching as the man approached her. He wore a red version of the Raptora suit, and just like the color of their armor, they were polar opposites. Khalil was an old man, scarred and weathered by battle, but had the heart of a young lover when it came to his team—his ‘family’ he would call them; Fareeha never understood why—and loved them like a father would; Fareeha was young, barely scathed by a bullet, but her emotions were drier than a bitter old woman, and only thought of her team as subordinates. Nothing more, nothing less.

Her captain gave her a huge grin, the scars on his face contorting to make room for it. “Good work today. You’re just a new recruit, but you got the skills of your mother.” He clapped her on the back, the sound of metal-against-metal scratching at her ears. Fareeha didn’t return his mirth—she gave a deep scowl instead.

“The skills, huh?” The bitterness refused to stay out of her tone.

Khalil’s smile softened. His eyebrows rose up and he gave her a fond stare, one that only fathers were capable of...if Fareeha had to guess. “I’m sure she had her reasons, Fareeha—“

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, “In HSI, my name is _Pharah,_ and _only_ Pharah.”

Even with her attitude, Khalil’s smile still stayed as he shook his head. “Oh, _Pharah,_ when will you understand that this team is—“

“It’s not my family.”

A heavy hand patted Fareeha’s head gently. If she had to guess, this was the closest thing to paternal contact since she was...young. She thought it felt nice, to be considered something so pure as a family, but her pride quickly reprimanded her for thinking so foolishly.

“You’ll understand one day,” the captain said quietly as he walked past, “the true meaning of a family.”

Fareeha couldn’t stop her scoff.

-x-

Fareeha woke with a start. She stared at the ceiling, the blanket of darkness preventing her to see anything else but black. She sighed through her nose and ran a hand through her bangs. As she recounted her dream, a small frown installed itself onto her lips, growing larger as it feasted on her clearing memory.

Why was she dreaming about _that_ again?

She turned onto her side, the rustling of her sheets filling the empty silence of the room. When she stared long enough, she could make out the faintest tinge of blue. The sight comforted her just a bit, but she still felt perturbed.

“Family,” she mumbled, remembering Khalil’s words.

Captain Khalil had died during a mission. He was gone. The only person to ever show her the love of a father had died in front of her, and she had watched the life fade from his eyes. She had watched the sparkle that lived so persistently in his eyes, no matter how bad, grave, or terrible the situation was, hold on until the bitter end.

And he had the audacity to do all of that with a smile.

Fareeha sighed again, this time ending it with a small grunt as she forced herself to sit up. She didn’t know what time it was (she hated having clocks in her room), but she knew that it was somewhere around the early, early morning.

She frowned.

She hated waking up this early, especially after a dream; it always took her a long time to fall back asleep.

She yawned and stretched, the joints in her shoulders and elbows popping. Her arms flopped back to the bed, and with another grunt, she forced herself to rise from the edge of her bed. The cold wood of the floor kissed the calloused bottoms of her feet as she walked past her Raptora suit, which still managed to gleam proudly in the dark, to end up in front of her drawer that contained her very few personal belongings.

Inside the drawer were obviously clothes and underwear, but it was the top of the drawer that interested Fareeha. Various trinkets made up of all sizes and shapes decorated it, and even with her impaired vision she was still able to figure out which one was which. She spent many sleepless nights in the very same spot, sifting through the waking memories each memento triggered.

On this particular night, she decided to start on the left. Gently, she reached over and found the cool metal of a pendant greeting her fingertips. She picked it up, the chain dragging against the drawer top as she held it up to her face.

The smell of metal tickled her nose as the singular Eye of Horus stared up at her.

It was a necklace that her mother had given her long ago, right before Ana Amari decided to found Overwatch with six others. Their names had gone down in history, and into modern legends. Many daughters would be proud to say that their mother served as second-in-command next to the legendary Jack Morrison, killed many in the name of justice, and died a heroic death.

But not Fareeha.

She should, she knew that, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. That woman had forbidden her to follow her dreams, dreams that she had trained for. How can one _not_ be so bitter about that? How can one _accept_ something like that?

If there was anyone like that in the world, Fareeha was certainly not one of them.

As she set the pendant down back to its respectful place, she reminded herself that Ana was still her mother and she still loved her with all her being. That woman had taught her everything she knew, from academics all the way to martial arts and athleticism. Fareeha’s success and sense of justice could only be credited to one person, and that one person was Ana.

Her hand traveled to the right and she came across a helmet. It shocked her fingertips with a cold touch, and her palms tingled as she held it in both her hands. The vibrant red of the helmet managed to pierce the darkness, its broken yellow visor looking weary. Fareeha ran her thumb over a crack, a nostalgic smile on her face.

She could almost imagine Captain Khalil’s smile on the other side of the helmet.

However, she didn’t want to linger on anymore memories of the man; a dream about him was more than enough for one night. She set it back down, the metallic helmet thudding against the wood.

The next trinket she kept was a letter. A fairly important letter too, in fact. She picked up the wrinkled piece of parchment and held it to her face, but the room was far too dark to make out the Arabian scrawl scribbled on it. Fareeha didn’t need to see the words to know what it was about, however; she read it millions of times already, from beginning to end and from end to beginning.

One phrase always got to her, however.

_Your mother, Ana._

Truth be told, Fareeha cried when she first received the letter. How couldn’t she? This was the first letter she received in...years. And from her mother, no less. The letter contained nothing new, just the old words that she repeated over and over again when Fareeha begged her to join Overwatch, but there was a new meaning behind them. She didn’t notice it before because her pride made her blind, but she _felt_ the love and tenderness. She could almost _hear_ her mother’s voice talking to her.

Ana wasn’t against Fareeha joining Overwatch because it was too dangerous. No, there it was more than that, she realized.

Ana didn’t want Fareeha losing her humanity, her consciousness, when she decided to pull the trigger against a fellow human being.

Fareeha sniffed and violently wiped a tear with the back of her hand. She cleared her throat, and gently placed the letter away, making sure not to rip it.

The last item was something that she forgot she had.

It was a small cube. Nothing special...on the outside. As she picked it up, Fareeha remembered there was a certain, special function it had. She didn’t remember _what_ it was, but what she did recall was _how_ she got it.

It came from a very special woman.

-x-

Several years ago, Pharah did not exist...at least, in the outside world. The idea of her was still germinating in a young soldier’s mind, a soldier by the name of Fareeha Amari.

Fareeha was, by all means, a prodigy when it came to the battlefield. With relative ease, she managed to climb the ranks of the Egyptian Army. Most of her missions were dangerous, and sometimes completion of one costed the lives of good men and women she knew. But there were times of peace, where Fareeha found herself wandering the streets in her uniform in order to uphold the very delicate balance between order and chaos.

During one such day of peacetime, Fareeha noticed a foreigner. The stranger carried herself with an awkward confidence, her prosthetic arm gleaming, almost glaring, in the bright Egyptian sun. Her hair spilled over her shoulders and her pale-blue dress. Her brown eyes, glimmering with purpose, scanned the marketplace as if she was looking for something. When she noticed the soldier, her eyes widened a bit, then relaxed, as if she found what she was looking for. The shine in her eyes shone brighter.

Fareeha, on the other hand, was simply staring because she was smitten with the foreigner—she always had a weakness for beautiful woman, and this one was certainly no exception.

As the woman approached the soldier, Fareeha put on a charming smile.

“Do you seek assistance?” She asked, her accent tinting her English. The woman simply studied her curiously, holding her chin in her prosthetic arm.

That gesture struck a nerve in Fareeha—it was something her mother used to do.

“You’re a soldier,” the stranger replied back in English. Her accent was something Fareeha couldn’t quite identify, and the way she spoke almost sounded...robotic—as if she was trained to say those words over and over again.

“I am. Do you seek—“

“Will you please guide me to the mayor’s house? It seems I have lost my way among the...locals.”

Fareeha gave a single nod and smile. “Please, follow me,” she said as she turned around and began to walk. Quiet footsteps sounded behind her.

The sun eventually rose its zenith, and Fareeha found herself sweating much more than usual in her uniform. Her vision swam in the heat as she continued walking down the straight path, weaving in and out of the crowd as she stepped over children zipping past. She could feel herself growing impatient; why was the mayor’s house so damn far from everything else?

Coughing into her fist to clear her dry throat, the soldier looked over her shoulder to see if her company was still following her.

The foreigner, completely unperturbed by the heat, was looking straight at her.

Fareeha found this slightly discomfiting, but refused to show it—instead, she put on a smile.

“So, what is your business with the mayor?” The soldier asked as she turned forward again, believing that a little small talk would keep her irritated mind off the heat and the distance.

The response was curt. “I’m here for my company.”

“Negotiations, I presume?”

“In a way, yes.”

Fareeha felt herself smile slightly. “Would you mind if I asked you to indulge me the details of your visit?”

Light laughter filled the air. It caught the soldier off her guard—she never expected the woman behind her to have such a beautiful laugh. “Are soldiers from this country this nosy?”

“Perhaps only this one,” Fareeha said, turning ever so slightly to give the woman the subtlest of smirks.

“As much as interesting that sounds, I believe we’re already here.”

Fareeha stopped and looked in front of her. The gated house of the mayor loomed over the both of them. “It seems like we are,” she mumbled, feeling her smile run away from her face. How strange—she found herself enjoying their conversation.

A gentle touch on her arm caused Fareeha to look to the side, and she saw the woman holding out an immaculate, white cube. The soldier stared at the gadget, then at the woman, then back again to the cube before finally taking it in her hand. It was a lot lighter than Fareeha had expected and fit snugly in the palm of her hand, but confusion was written all over her face as she examined it.

“What is…?” She glanced at the foreigner, who was wearing a small, ambiguous smile.

“If you can find the puzzle behind that cube, then the details of my travels here will be clear to you.”

And with that, the woman gave Fareeha a nod of farewell and walked towards the black fence.

-x-

Fareeha spent the rest of her day wandering the streets, her hand stuffed in her pocket holding the cube in her hand. Her eyes were forward, but her mind was occupied with thoughts on how to solve the cube’s puzzle...if there was even such a thing. By the end of her day and nearing the end of her daily route, Fareeha wondered if she was wasting too much energy over a simple toy.

“Maybe she was just messing with my head,” she mumbled to herself as she turned a corner, “She _did_ look a little sket—“

Fareeha stopped her mouth as she hid behind the building wall, her back against it. She leaned out just far enough so that she was able to get a decent view of the road. The dirt path was dimly illuminated, but she saw two figures, one taller than the other, having a rather heated discussion. They looked too immersed in their conversation and didn’t seem to notice her, much to her liking. She strained to understand what they were saying, but their tongue was alien to her and all she could do was observe and listen blindly.

A hand went to grip at the gun she kept holstered at her side.

If worst went to worst, she _would not_ allow these people to disrupt the peace.

Suddenly, the two people fell into an eerie silence. Fareeha squinted her eyes, but saw no sign of foul play. Perhaps they already reached a decision through the yelling?

The taller shadow gave a brisk nod and an epileptic flash of blue light brightened the sky. Fareeha winced, but quickly regained her senses.

When she looked up, only the shorter figure was left.

_How the hell—_

“You can come out now.”

Fareeha jumped and nearly pulled the trigger on her gun—had she been spotted after all?

Her military instincts kicked in and she jumped out, gun out and aimed straight. Her finger rested on the trigger, ready to pull it at any second.

A familiar prosthetic arm came out from the dark shadows, a blindingly bright white standing out against a black blanket. It pushed Fareeha’s gun to the side, and the soldier allowed it to happen when the figure finally stepped into the orange light.

Fareeha’s eyes grew wide. “You’re—“

The woman, the exact one from earlier in the day, placed a finger against the soldier’s lips. It felt incredibly warm against her chilly face, and Fareeha felt her face heat up when the stranger took a step closer to slide an arm into her pocket.

“You haven’t figured it out yet,” the woman said. There was a dulled bluntness to her tone, as if she wanted to say it as a question, but it still managed to come out as a statement no matter how much she tried.

“Figured out what—“

The finger against Fareeha’s lips pressed harder to silence her. The white cube that was in her pocket crept into her field of vision.

“The puzzle.”

The soldier took a small step back to distance herself away from the other’s touch. Fareeha narrowed her eyes in skepticism.

“My name is Symmetra,” the woman began, “And I work for the Vishkar Corporation.”

“What does that have to—“

“At Vishkar, we have a goal,”—the soldier shut her mouth because she knew she was just going to get interrupted if she tried to speak again—“And that goal is to make everything better. To make the world a better place, for everyone.”

Fareeha’s eyes widened with surprise. Never in her life had she ever met someone who spoke so...passionately. She could almost see the fervor Symmetra felt towards her work oozing out of her, especially when the latter smiled the tiniest of smiles when she waved her real hand over the cube.

“And in order to meet our goal,” Symmetra said, “we must use technology that no one has ever seen accomplished before. Hard-light manipulation is one of those technologies, where one can bend _light_ to their liking to create _anything._ ” Her eyes glittered as she looked up at Fareeha.

The soldier took this as a sign to finally speak. “Can Vishkar really do all that?”

“Vishkar can do anything if you have the imagination to do it,” Symmetra asserted, “And this cube is a prime example.”

Fareeha watched silently as the foreigner held the cube in both hands. Symmetra closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling like a wave. The cube began to change colors from a plain white to a vibrant blue, the same blue that Fareeha saw earlier, but this time it was much more tolerable to look at and the soldier found herself being genuinely interested in what was happening. Before she had a chance to ask, Symmetra removed a hand from the cube.

Fareeha couldn’t stop her soft gasp.

There, standing in the center of the cube, stood a bird that Fareeha never saw before. It was a tiny thing and was only hued with various shades of blue, but that didn’t stop her from admiring the creature. With the timidness of a schoolgirl, Fareeha raised her hand and reached out with a finger.

She was shocked when her finger didn’t phase through the bird’s head, but rather settled on top of it. The bird tilted its head this way and that as if it were actually alive. Fareeha gently stroked its head, minding to only use the lightest of touches.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Symmetra asked quietly.

“It is,” Fareeha agreed.

“ _This_ is what Vishkar can do,” Symmetra said, tilting Fareeha’s head up so slightly so that they held eye contact with one another. The cold metal of the woman’s prosthetic arm kissed the soldier’s skin in the warmest way possible. “And I hope you can understand.”

Truth be told, Fareeha didn’t. But what she _did_ understand, however, was the amazing beauty Symmetra held. Her brown eyes glittered with hope and wonder, her hair’s luster shimmered even in the dimness of the world, and _by God_ , her lips were curled in a very small, but very noticeable smile.

The soldier gave her a smile.

“I think I do,” Fareeha mumbled.

Symmetra laughed and the soldier forgot how to breathe at that moment.

She didn’t know why, but Fareeha had the sudden thought that she may have fallen for this strange woman.

-x-

Now standing in the dark of her room once again, Fareeha clasped the cube with both hands, her memories now beginning to flood back. She took a breath and exhaled, conjuring up the image in her mind. When the cube began to glow a gentle hue of blue, she removed one of her hands.

Three small images of three people flickered to life. On the left stood Ana as Fareeha remembered her: tall and healthy, her Overwatch uniform fitting her impeccably as a sniper was slung over her back. A sly smirk was planted on her face, and her signature tattoo curled underneath her eye. On the right was Khalil, clad in his red Raptora Suit. His visor hid his eyes from view, but Fareeha was able to make out the largest grin plastered on his face.

In the center of both of them, however, stood Symmetra. Her smile was small and demure, but held ambition and mystery. Admittedly, Fareeha found herself captivated with the foreigner’s image than the other too. She found herself wondering where Symmetra had gone, and what she had done. Perhaps she could find the answer to that question in the morning….

But until then, she stared at all three of them, a nostalgic smile on her face.

They all had come and gone, but Fareeha’s love for them would never fade.


End file.
